


Pampered

by yeaka



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Established Relationship, Ficlet, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-18
Updated: 2018-03-18
Packaged: 2019-04-04 00:49:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14008515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Gladiolus comes home too tired.





	Pampered

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Fill for anon’s “Gladio has a long day/week full of training sessions, meetings, guard duty and his educational and academic pursuits. He's physically and mentally exhausted when he comes home to Ignis, who takes care of his man right. Please let this big strong man be spoiled for a change! I don't even care how. Just let Ignis fuss over him and Gladio be too tired or sore to stop him.” prompt on [the FFXV kinkmeme](https://ffxv-kinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/4747.html?thread=9238411#cmt9238411).
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own Final Fantasy XV or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

By the time he gets home, his legs are like cooked noodles. He pushes open the door and practically stumbles through it, fumbling with the lock. He fishes his phone out of his pocket as he kicks out of his shoes—he _hates_ to do it, but he has to tell Ignis that he just _can’t_ make it over like he promised. He’d told Ignis only yesterday that he’d _make_ time for them, that he’d give Ignis the ‘good dicking’ his hard-working boyfriend deserves. But that was before Iris needed a ride halfway across the city, Noctis ran overtime on his training, and Cor called him in to help train some new recruits. He’s been on his feet all day and only just managed to cram in an orange for breakfast and some cup noodles for lunch. He’s too exhausted to make dinner. And it’s already way past dark—there’s no time left to study for the online course he’s been trying to take. He probably never should’ve signed up in the first place. His life is dedicated to the crown, and he barely has any time for his boyfriend, let alone himself.

Down to his socks and leaning heavily against the wall, Gladiolus plucks Ignis out of his contacts. Before he can type anything in, he hears a drawer slide open in the kitchen. His head jerks up, body tensing. He should’ve noticed that the lights were already on in his apartment. Some bodyguard he is. 

Coming out of the hall, the kitchen’s on the right, and the culprit is easy to spot. Ignis is bent over the counter, smoothly chopping a long sushi roll into bite-sized slices. Ignis glances over as Gladiolus pauses in the doorway, and then he puts down his knife long enough to sweep over, where he pecks Gladiolus’ cheek and murmurs, “Welcome home.”

Instantly and inexplicably, Gladiolus feels lighter. He still only manages a weak grunt. Ignis gives him a gentle smile, so wholly understanding, even though he hasn’t said a word. Smoothly returning to his work at the cutting board, Ignis explains, “I received a text from Cor apologizing for holding you up so late.”

A faint flush comes over Gladiolus’ cheeks—he didn’t know the marshal knew about them. Or maybe Cor just tells Ignis _everything_ , because Ignis organizes everyone. Gladiolus feels sort of guilty for acting like _he’s_ the one that’s overwhelmed. He mutters, “I’m the one that should apologize.”

“Nonsense—these things do happen.”

“But I’m the one that was supposed to help you unwind. You’ve been so busy at the palace lately—”

“As have you,” Ignis counters, and it’s telling that he actually interrupted Gladiolus: hardly the usual prime and polite propriety. Sometimes Gladiolus forgets just how firm Ignis can be. Ignis tells him in no uncertain terms, “You’re clearly far more exhausted than I am, and I’m not unaware that your exhaustion is both physical as well as mental. Now, go sit down, and I’ll bring you dinner. You deserve to come home to a good meal at the end of the day.”

No he doesn’t. Ignis is the one that deserves the weight of mealtimes off his shoulders, but Gladiolus doesn’t have the strength this time to argue. He gives his boyfriend a mock solute and obeys the order, stifling a yawn as he meanders into the living room. He doesn’t think he could handle the rigid fit of the dining room chairs, so he slumps down into the couch and hopes Ignis forgives the laziness. Sure enough, Ignis appears only a moment later, carrying two plates with little bowls of soy sauce balanced at the edges. Gladiolus takes his into his lap, and Ignis sits down next to him. 

Through a broad, grateful grin, Gladiolus murmurs, “You didn’t have to do this.”

Ignis returns an indulgent smile and picks up his chopsticks. The sushi he made looks absolutely delicious. When Gladiolus digs in, he finds it tastes even better. He knew it would. Ignis’ endless recipes never disappoint. He’d thought he wouldn’t have the stomach for anything large, but the sushi is light, the rice soft and the vegetable and shrimp fillings pleasantly crisp. Gladiolus hungrily devours piece after piece, until there’s nothing left, and Ignis is shifting a few of his own pieces onto Gladiolus’ plate. For once, Gladiolus doesn’t protest. He enjoys them too and mutters, “Thanks.” Ignis offers another smile and collects his empty plate, carting it back off to the kitchen.

Gladiolus stays on the couch through the faint clinking sounds of their dishes going into the dishwasher. He knows he needs to get up. He wants to go to bed. But he should do something for Ignis. Anything. Before he manages to think of anything, Ignis returns, asking as he sits, “Would you like a massage?”

Gladiolus’ entire body screams: _yes_. But he answers, “As much as I’d normally jump at the chance, I don’t think I have the energy for a happy ending...”

“I wasn’t offering,” Ignis answers simply. “I’m afraid only an innocent massage will have to do tonight.” Then he taps Gladiolus’ shoulder, easily guiding Gladiolus around, and Gladiolus obliges. He turns his back to Ignis and lets Ignis peel away his jacket, leaving his chest bear in the relative coolness of his apartment. Before the cold air can get to him, Ignis’ slender fingers splay across his shoulder blades. 

Ignis sets in to knead his flesh in smooth, fluid movements, silk soft and yet grinding _just_ hard enough into all the right areas. Ignis has done this for him a hundred times, and it seems by now that Ignis has learned his body off by heart. Ignis knows just how to touch him, just how to work him, to unwind every knot and ease every tender ache. Ignis’ touch is warm and mesmerizing. Ignis’ hands are magic. 

It’s almost _too_ blissful. Gladiolus’ posture slips in no time. He slumps down, sinking gradually lower, until another yawn escapes his throat. He wants to just fall asleep right there, with Ignis faithfully attending him.

But Gladiolus is well trained enough to deny himself pleasure in favour of the _proper_ way to do things. He begrudgingly sighs, “You better stop, or I’m going to nod off.”

“Hm,” Ignis hums, “we had better stop, then. I don’t fancy kissing you in the morning after a night without brushing your teeth.” 

Gladiolus snorts. When Ignis’ hands fall away, he forces himself to climb off the couch. Then he stumbles for the washroom, feet more sluggish than ever.

He manages his teeth but little else. Ignis joins him to offer pajama bottoms, only to lean back against the doorframe and tease, “This isn’t the sort of fun I’d imagined for tonight, but at least I can watch you change.”

Gladiolus stifles another apology and does just that, stripping away the last of his clothes and stepping into the plush cotton trousers. Ignis’ approving gaze only makes him smile. He isn’t surprised when Ignis collects his discarded pants and boxers afterwards, ferrying them to the laundry basket. Then Ignis disappears for his own washroom routine as Gladiolus settles into bed. Just as he’s getting comfortable, Ignis emerges to shut off the lights. The half-closed curtains still let in a little starlight, but Gladiolus’ lashes are getting too heavy to hold up anyway. With them sliding shut, he asks, “Are you gonna be my teddy bear too?”

“Of course,” Ignis answers, smooth voice rolling over Gladiolus like a lilting lullaby. He feels the bed dip beside him and the sheets wrinkle as Ignis slips beneath them. Then a chaste kiss is pressed against Gladiolus’ nose, and Ignis whispers, “I take care of all of my man’s needs.”

Gladiolus sighs, “You spoil me.”

“It’s only fair to return the favour sometimes.”

Grinning widely, Gladiolus reaches out to envelop Ignis in his arms. Then he lets all the rest fall away, and pleasant dreams are left in the wake: Ignis the star of every one.


End file.
